Recycling Hearts
by UchihanoChidori
Summary: Sequel to 'Not Enough' and 'Love's Illusions'. It's been seventeen years since Sasuke and Naruto have broken up. The time to heal has finally come, but finding their place in each other's lives has a whole new meaning after so many years of being apart.
1. Part I: Seeing You

**A/N: This is a sequel to "Not Enough" and "Love's Illusions". **If you haven't read those, you might want to read them so you can understand what's happening.

I wrote this, in hopes that Sasuke and Naruto can finally find a way to heal and understand what they want, for themselves and for each other. Their story has been haunting me, so I need to wrap it up, because they do deserve a happy ending, don't you think?

This should have three parts. **Written from Naruto's POV.**

**Disclaimer: **They belong to Kishimoto Masashi-sama.

**Warnings: Drama, swearing, eventual sexual interaction between two people of the same gender. It's called yaoi, homossexuality, man on man action. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ!**

**Un-beta'd.**

* * *

**Recycling Hearts**

**Part I: Seeing You**

Of all the places in the world, I never expected to be kneeling on the floor of one of the Uchiha family mansion's guest rooms.

The room is very…plain, typically Japanese, I suppose, with running white doors and polished, light colored wooden walls with simple paintings and scrolls hanging here and there.

To be honest, Sasuke, I knew you had a traditional family, but I never would have guessed that they owned such a traditional looking house (what with your parents having resided in England for so long), surrounded by seemingly endless grounds of gorgeous vegetation, with white thick walls to protect it and everything.

You told me once that the Uchiha had been a powerful clan once, their name and personal tradition living on through the centuries until this very day. I remember you trying to explain the family history to me, but I tuned you out because listening to a bunch of historical tales had sounded boring. I regret that, now, for many reasons.

I haven't been in Japan since I was three, so it's not like this is familiar to me. You taught me a few conducts when we were dating, but I seriously can't remember most of them. I do know that it's polite to bow down a lot.

I stare at the sliding door unblinkingly, my mind going blank for a few seconds before I ask myself if this really is a good idea, or if I should just get up and leave.

Coming face to face with my past shouldn't represent something scary, but it does, in a way. We were together for twenty years, after all - as rivals, friends, and later on, lovers. Both our lives were intricately intertwined until the very end of our explosive relationship, and that's not something that can be ignored, even though I tried to. At the time, I knew it was all for the best, but leaving you was like losing a very important part of my identity, a part of my life, and, most of all, a part of _me_, because everything that surrounded you was left behind as well.

Because, really, not everything about our love story was bad. There were times when it was impossible for us to not be miserable, but in truth, when things were alright, we weren't just happy together – we were perfect. There was just something about us that was simply _it_ back then, and I still can't explain it today, after all these years. There was empathy, desire, need, trust, and camaraderie. There was also frustration, anger, and hatred. Most of all, there was genuine love and hope for better days.

That kind of ecstasy and passion…I still can't get that anywhere else.

I left you tired of my own convictions towards you. In a short time, I came to understand that it was your relentless stubbornness that gave me the strength to endure the rocky paths of life. We grew up together; we were always there for each other, so, without you, I was left in a position where I didn't really know what to do with myself.

On that day – the worst day of my life – I left my heart in your pocket along with other things I had trusted upon you for so long. I left half of me behind.

It was… _is_ very hard on me, to say the truth. Some things in life just can't be forgotten. I was naïve in thinking otherwise, but there is no point in crying over spilled milk at this point.

Sasuke, to me, we were everything that mattered. I still think a lot about you – about us. I truly loved you, and in spite of all the things I said in the past, I know you were (and probably will always be) the love of my life, because no-one has managed to compare to you until now.

I'm just so sorry that we weren't smarter from the very beginning. We should've done things differently, tried to think before acting, listened to what people around us said. If we had stayed friends instead, and allowed each other to grow up before starting something deeper, I'm sure things would've been better. We didn't have time to accommodate to each other's personalities in all that teenage oblivion.

But we were too stupid to back down, too fueled up by our own hormones and the joys of love to think about that. We never really stopped being rivals, I think, and becoming lovers in such a state was probably the worst decision we ever made. We had no maturity to deal with our feelings of frustration and lust for each other. We just had to be together, come out to everyone with pride, and refuse any form of advice or criticism. Now, I see that they were all seeing something we didn't.

We were childish, and obnoxious.

In the end, it all comes down to my life (and yours) simply being poorly planned and executed from the very beginning.

Do I wish we had been patient and waited for each other a little longer?

_God_, yes.

People saw how much we loved each other, you know? Even your father acknowledged it; that's why he threatened to disown you and tried to tear us apart – he was scared for you, worried about the predictable fiasco we were the only ones failing to foresee.

That's why I'm here, now, holding no grudges and willing to step into your world after so long.

I am probably more nervous than anything else because my initial idea wasn't to come see _you_ personally, per se, but I somehow have the feeling that Itachi didn't invite me just so I could have fun at your birthday party.

Of course, I can't help but to know that this is, in fact, the perfect opportunity to get to see you.

The smaller right hand in my left one squeezes it as if to wake me up from my musings. I blink, looking down at sympathetic blues eyes that match mine.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," my thirteen year old daughter, Alice, says, with gentleness. "We can just stay at a hotel or something."

Her long blond hair – straight, like her mother's, but the color undoubtedly mine – blows gently in the soft afternoon breeze coming from the window behind us. Looking at her makes me feel warm inside as my uneasiness slowly fades away.

"It's fine, honey," I assure, squeezing her hand back. "They were like family, once. It was me who didn't really get in touch, but I'm actually looking forward to seeing them again."

It's true, Sasuke. I miss your parents – yes, even your dad – and Itachi, too. I don't really know any other Uchiha because this is Japan and I met you guys back in England, but I'm kind of excited about meeting the rest of the family.

Alice nods at me and offers me a small, reassuring smile before releasing my hand. I feel the weight upon my shoulders being slightly lifted, and I can't help but to be thankful for her presence. She's so smart, so mature for her age. I don't know what I'd do without her.

I still don't know how I have summoned the courage to tell her about us. Well, about _me._ How can a man tell his child that he has spent a good part of his life as a gay man? Worst, how could I explain to her that I have loved another man for so many years, even while married to her mother? Should I tell her that, if things had worked out between us (like I wish they had) she wouldn't be in this world?

But Alice, it seems, is far more understanding than I could've hoped for, because she accepted everything I have told her without as much as a nod. She asked me if I still loved you, and I said, _yes_, of course I still do.

I don't think I ever stopped. It wasn't like I tried to delude myself about it, it was more like…I felt that it was better for me to ignore that constant nagging feeling of emptiness inside of me, trying to fill it over and over again with useless things. I managed to move on, obviously, and have been doing just fine during these many years we have been apart, but some things can never be erased, no matter how much time passes.

I remember wishing that the time would come when we could be friends and have a normal relationship, a normal friendship. I wonder if that time has finally come. I wonder if I'll be able to look at you and not want to kiss you; if I'll be able to be next to you without feeling like eating you alive. I wonder if your eyes will finally stop making me feel awkward, or if I'll ever be able to breathe easily when you're in the same room.

I miss you. I miss talking to you and having you listen to every word I say. Even if you disagree, even if you throw some nasty remark at me, I know you will be listening and understanding. I miss your laughter, your voice, your calculated gestures, and that little tick on your nose when something displeases you.

I just want this longing to stop. If, for some reason, I can have you back in my life, maybe I'll find some semblance of normalcy again. Maybe I'll find the old me again.

I used to hate the old me – the person I was when I was with you. But now, when I look back, I realize that, in spite of always being as miserable as I was happy, I was undoubtedly _alive_. You made me feel that way, for all the good and the bad reasons.

It's funny how the world works, isn't it? And it's been…seventeen years since the day we've broken up.

I'm not sorry that I left; I'm just sorry that I had to hurt you in order to do so. I'm sorry that we couldn't be sensible enough to do things differently. I'm sorry that, ten years ago, I was selfish once again in wanting you. I'm sorry for using you to quell that insatiable need in me for you, only to abandon you once again.

I hated myself for it, because you gave in so easily. It was like going back in time and I was falling hopelessly in love all over again, like we hadn't been apart at all. It was like…everything fell back into place, then, and I coudn't explain it if I tried.

But it was precisely because we had both given in so easily that I knew we weren't ready yet - and it was a hard blow to take.

Sasuke, do you hate me? I wouldn't blame you if you did.

I am afraid of seeing you again, to be honest, because I don't know what to expect. I don't know what you've been up to, what you look like now, if you have another lover, or if you're still clinging to that idiotic 'I'm-fine-by-myself' ideology. Maybe you have fallen in love with someone else in the meanwhile. Some part of me wishes you have, while another part feels morose at the perspective. But I don't care anymore; it doesn't matter what you're doing, or who you're with.

I just want to see you happy, looking as amazing as you always did. For some reason, thinking about this makes my heart feel constricted.

"Dad," Alice whispers urgently, punching my thigh and waking me up from my thoughts. "Someone's coming!"

I straighten my back at once and notice that my vision is blurry. I quickly rub my eyes with the palm of my hand and manage to regain my composure just as the fragile door slides open to reveal my ex-almost-in-laws.

My gaze focuses on Mikoto-san first, who is wearing a beautiful white _Kimono_ with blood red flowers on it. I notice how, in spite of the visible new found wrinkles on the corners of her eyes, mouth, and forehead, she still looks younger than her age. Her long hair, once of a dark black-bluish color, has now acquired a slightly greyish tone and is tied in a long braid resting over her chest, falling all the way down to her waist. She still looks youthful, her correct, porcelain doll features showing a still vivid beauty.

She is smiling genuinely as she enters the room in her white slippers, Fugaku-san close behind her in his dark blue _Yukata_, each hand shoved inside the opposite arm's sleeve, looking as tall and as severe as I remember. He looks fairly older, his own wrinkles very pronounced, but that's probably because he spent more time frowning and making angry faces than anyone I know. His hair is now almost white, but just like Mikoto-san, he is still a good-looking man, what with that imposing presence and his firm stance. I am relieved to see them healthy and well.

I get up, not able to help my own smile at seeing Mikoto-san's, and Alice follows my lead.

"Naruto, I am so happy to see you!" the older woman says in her broken accented English, coming to me with her tiny small arms stretched before pulling me in for a tight hug. "It's been forever since we've seen each other!"

I hug her back before pulling away a bit. "It's wonderful to see you, too," I mumble, looking into her dark eyes, so much like yours, Sasuke, and noticing the tears of emotion in them. "You look absolutely stunning, as usual."

She chuckles a bit and sniffs, slapping my arm slightly before pulling away completely. "You were always such a charmer. And you're still as handsome as ever!"

I smile thankfully at her before turning to Fugaku-san. He isn't smiling at all, his eyes trained on me with an expression that is hard to read, and I would've felt intimidated by that look when I was younger, but right now, all I can think about is how much I have missed even that sour face.

I strongly disliked this man in the past, but after you and I broke up, I began to realize that Fugaku-san didn't hate me – he was only worried about you and about the path we were taking together. As a father, I understand him, now, and how much of a threat I might've been to him as his son's irresponsible and impulsive lover.

I offer him a polite and respectful bow that he doesn't reciprocate.

"It's very nice to see you again, Fugaku-san," I say, chancing a small smile in his direction. "You look well."

He eyes me penetratingly in silence for a few seconds before inhaling sharply and extending his strong hand to me, something he has never really done before.

I blink at the hand a few times before taking it and shaking it vigorously, my smile growing.

"It's good to see you, too, Naruto," he replies, in his very formal tone, but the way he addresses me so informally actually takes me by surprise, since he always called me 'Uzumaki' or 'Naruto-kun'. "We are very happy to welcome you to our house. It's been far too long."

"Yes, it has," I agree, laughing a bit shyly at his words. "Life sure is full of surprises."

"To think that we saw you grow up," Fugaku-san says, hand squeezing mine strongly and meaningfully before letting go, slowly. "And now here you are, a responsible adult. It somehow feels a bit nostalgic."

I nod, silently agreeing with him. There is something akin to approval and a bit of sadness in his eyes, letting me know that, somehow, he finds it unfortunate that things turned out the way they did. This comforts me, and already I am thankful for having come here just to be able to go through such an experience.

Your father was never very talkative, but when he did open his mouth to speak, something meaningful was sure to be said.

"And this adorable girl must be Alice!" Mikoto-san notes, smiling softly at my daughter, who promptly bows down as I taught her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Uchiha," she mumbles, blushing a bit. "Thank you for having me here."

"Not at all, we are thrilled to meet you," the older woman dismisses, bowing elegantly to Alice as well, while Fugaku-san merely lowers his chin. "How old are you, dear?"

"Thirteen." Alice answers sweetly.

"Toshi, our grandson, is fifteen," Fugaku-san comments casually. "He has already been instructed to show you around, Alice. I'm sure the two of you will be good friends."

"I hope so, Sir," Alice replies, her eyes brightening up at the mention of company of someone close to her age.

"He and Sasuke left to help Itachi run a few errands, but they should be arriving soon," Mikoto-san says, gesturing to the pillows we had been kneeling on so we could go back to our previous positions. "We weren't expecting you so soon."

"I thought it would take us longer to get here from the airport," I explain, scratching the back of my head as the couple also kneels down at the table, across from us. "My Japanese is more than rusty, but apparently I managed to get here fairly quickly. I'm sorry for being early, it was probably rude of me."

"Don't worry about it," Fugaku-san huffs, as if my apologies are ridiculous. "Things are relatively calm around here, since the family hasn't arrived yet. Tomorrow, though, people will start coming to help with preparations for Sasuke's birthday. He hasn't spent it with us since he was a teenager, so we really are glad that he managed to be on vacation at this particular time of the year. Hopefully you don't mind."

"Not at all, I just hope I can be helpful in some way," I say, with honesty. "You know me, I blend in easily amongst the chaos."

"What brings you here to Japan?" Mikoto-san asks, stroking her braid gently with both hands, the smile never leaving her face.

"Well, Alice has been wanting to visit the country I was born in for a while," I start, exchanging looks with my girl. "And what better time than the summer? I mentioned it to Itachi a few weeks ago, while we were chatting online, and he immediately invited us to stay here. I was a bit hesitant at first, because I didn't want us to be an inconvenience, but Itachi insisted so much that…well, here we are."

"Japan is a lovely country," Fugaku-san comments with a serious nod, shoving his hands inside his sleeves once more. "There is a lot to see, and it's easy to get to the cities from here, even though this mansion looks like it's in the middle of nowhere. You can borrow one of my cars to go sightseeing."

I almost choke on my own saliva.

"Ah, no, I couldn't possibly accept that!" I exclaim, raising my hands in front of me in refusal. "I'm sure we can call a taxi, or just walk to the nearest train station, or…"

"Nonsense," Mikoto-san interrupts jovially. "As if we'd let you do that, silly. You're family, and we expect you to accept our hospitality as such."

"Heh…" I mutter, feeling my cheeks burn up a little in awkwardness, not really knowing how to respond to that.

It's not like I don't know they were fond of me in their own way, and still are. You and I have grown up together; I spent countless vacations with you and your family, and even after we started dating seriously and rebelled against the world, they were there for us, always wanting to help us in their own way, but we were too proud to accept any kind of charity. I know they knew we went through some rough times during college, but you and I always preferred to fight for ourselves, trying to make some kind of statement, as if we wanted to prove that we could fend for ourselves more than fine.

Today, I honestly wish we could've been wiser. They might not have agreed with our relationship – then again, no-one did – but they never meant us no harm. Our lives could've been a lot easier if we had just taken their advices. I'm sure they never wanted us to almost starve.

I often feel like slapping myself when I think about the past. I wonder what your parents thought of us back then, of me, of the pain I made you go through, and yet, they are able to still consider me family and welcome me and my daughter to their house with open arms.

Some part of me knows that they understood us – they knew how much we meant to each other – the love, the hatred, the happiness, and the sorrow. They knew it and they understood, that's why I'm able to look into their faces so openly.

They don't judge us anymore. I think that we did manage to make a statement, after all, even if it took so long for it to be acknowledged.

It makes me happy, Sasuke, that we managed to get through to everyone in the end. Our family, our friends…I know they all understood what we were to each other when we finally said our goodbyes. I'm not sure about you, but I lived in such a burning hell afterwards that people actually started considering calling you to come back and 'save me'.

"Naruto, honey, are you alright?" Mikoto-san's soft voice wakes me up from unwanted memories and I blink at her before forcing out a smile. I can feel Alice's eyes on me, but I don't look at her. She already knows enough as it is about us, and I don't need her to think that being here makes me sad, because it doesn't.

"I'm great," I say, shaking my head from side to side. "Just a bit jetlagged, I suppose."

She nods in understanding, but doesn't seem to believe me. "You two are probably tired and eager for a bit of rest. Forgive us for imposing on you, we just really wanted to be able to welcome you and Alice after all this time."

"Please, Mikoto-san, we're fine," I dismiss, good-naturedly. "I was looking forward to spending some time with the both of you, as well."

I can almost swear Fugaku-san's face has gained a new pinkish tone to it even though his expression doesn't change. His wife, though, beams at me happily.

"I'm glad!" she says, with a delicate nod. "The tea should be arriving soon, as well as a few treats. I'm sure you are both famished, airplane food is always horrid."

"Yes, thank you so much," Alice answers, clearly looking forward to having something – probably Japanese – to eat.

"We've been hearing about you from Itachi throughout the years," Fugaku-san proceeds austerely after clearing his throat. "We were happy to know that you have been faring well in life. Also, it was good to know that you still communicate with someone from our family."

"Well, yes…" I mumble, my muscles tensing ever so slightly at the implications in the undertone. "I always had Itachi's phone number and e-mail, but we spent a long time without actually talking to each other, and then Sasuke told me he moved here with the both of you, and I kind of felt bad because I never really had time to say goodbye." I scratch my forearm awkwardly, feeling my cheeks heat up at the feel of your name coming from my mouth. "So I e-mailed him and we've been talking, keeping each other updated and all that."

"But you don't usually talk to Sasuke, do you?" Mikoto-san inquires, in a careful, gentle way.

Alice observes me quietly, a strange stiffness in her letting me know that she is curious as to what I'm going to say, or better yet, _how_ I'm going to say it.

"Ah, no, not really," I admit, feeling a bit stupid all of a sudden. "I mean, we did meet once, about…ten years ago, I think, but we haven't really…talked, or seen each other since then. I was going through divorce at the time, and it was a complicated period for me. I was happy that I got to talk to him, though, but I wasn't exactly on a right state of mind to initiate a friendship with him. It still wasn't the right moment yet, I suppose, and then…Time just goes by so fast, you know? And now it's been ten years."

"Time _does_ go by way too fast, sometimes," the older woman agrees, her smile becoming a little sad. She places her hand over Fugaku-san's knee. "I reckon he's excited about seeing you again, in his own way. You know him, always keeping to himself around everybody, even today. He was always able to open up to you, though."

"Yeah," I nod, feeling my throat run dry. "Telling me exactly what was on his mind was never an issue to him."

"We are very proud of you," Fugaku-san compliments unexpectedly, in a cold tone to mask his perturbation. "Of the both of you, I mean. You have actually managed to do the right thing, at the right time, before things got out of hand. Patience is a virtue, Naruto, and you and Sasuke, unfortunately, had to learn it the hard way. I'm just glad that you are both mature enough now not to make a big deal out of this whole situation." He sighs and frowns clumsily, as if not really knowing what to do with his face. "I only hope we can finally leave the past behind and start over, all of us. I'm sure Sasuke agrees."

To know that your family is finally siding with us is wonderful. Even if we're no longer together, Sasuke, they finally want things to fall into place, and that's more than enough encouragement for me. They finally acknowledge where we belong.

Knowing that your father, this austere man that I always thought had made my life a living hell feels this way is enough to provide a boost of courage and hope in me, and I flash him the biggest grin I can before exclaiming "I sure hope so, too!"

I know, now, that it'll be alright. Coming here was definitely worth it.

oOo

I'm feeling rather thankful that Alice and I have been given separate bedrooms. She's already a teenager, and thus, very demanding of her privacy, and even though I wouldn't particularly mind sharing a room with her, I have to admit that having my own private corner is a welcomed relief. In a way, I'm a little scared of her being subjected to my emotional conflicts when we are supposed to be on vacation and just have fun and be carefree.

I have to admit that, in a way, this big, traditional house does feel like home. It's not familiar at all, visually speaking, but the environment is familiar enough - the atmosphere - and it feels nice to be here now that I no longer feel trapped by your family's reproach. It's weird, but I like it.

I think this whole situation has been a valuable lesson to all of us, and the fact that your parents seem to want me back into their lives, somehow, is proof enough of that. I'm not sure what they're expecting at this stage, but I suppose they're content in getting something positive out of it, just like me.

It's also weird that I don't feel like a stranger here. I don't feel nervous anymore, I feel…expectant, excited, yes, but not nervous.

After we ate and talked some more about trivial things, Mikoto-san has showed us around only enough for us to know where our rooms are and where is what so we don't get lost. She probably expects us to make ourselves at home. There are less servants than what I expected, actually, only five for such a huge mansion – three women and two men, which means that everybody in the house works, including the owners. It's pretty shocking considering your parents are loaded, but then again, they only had a butler and a housekeeper in England.

Of course, even though my former parents-in-law went back to their affairs and allowed us to have a bit of time for ourselves and 'get comfortable', Alice and I didn't really explore much, instead opting to enjoy the sunset from the front entrance porch while we played with the two large Akita dogs we found lurking around. They are both stunning – one of them is of a pure, snowy white – the female – while the other – the male – is of a reddish brown with white in his paws, tail and chest. Alice and I were happy to discover that they are actually calm and friendly, albeit proud creatures.

I am now sitting on the wooden floor of the porch with my feet resting on the single step. I pull the sleeves of my sweater up before leaning forward and resting my elbows over my knees. The white Akita is lying down beside me with her head up in a contemplative alert stance, electric baby blue eyes watching as the male and Alice play catch in front of us.

The breeze is warm and carries the scents of the beautiful and colorful flowery garden surrounding us. I can hear birds singing over Alice's soft laughter and the dog's occasional bark of excitement as she waves the dry stick she has found over her head, keeping it away from the animal's reach before throwing it. I can't help but to smile. She is such a well-behaved child, truly a kind, sensitive spirit. Every day I thank God she takes more after me than she does her mother.

I had expected her to ask questions about the Uchiha family – about you – once we were alone, and yet, she didn't, and I'm glad, because it means that she understands how important this is to me, how much I need my emotional space right now. But I know she is watching me, evaluating my every move, studying everything very carefully. She wants to know, to comprehend me, but she knows she won't get that sort of information from my mouth.

It is better this way, I think, because I will never be able to explain it to her, not in a way that is faithful to the truth. Who you are to me, what we were, our story, everything…I don't think words alone will ever be enough.

The Akita beside me gets up suddenly, startling me. Only when the male stills his playing with Alice do I hear the sound of a vehicle approaching outside the tall walls that surround the mansion. The male Akita releases one single, authoritarian bark and then runs to the black irony doors, the female following suit. Together, the two wait with their fluffy tails wagging excitedly.

My heart speeds up as the vehicle (a car, I guess) seems to come to a halt. I can hear the engine being turned off. With my heart racing a bit in expectancy, I listen attentively to everything happening outside these walls, things I can't see but can only picture inside my head. Alice straightens up and looks at me with her clear eyebrows disappearing underneath her fringe.

Doors opening and slamming closed are followed by voices chatting casually. I can recognize yours, low and deep, even now, and Itachi's, too, even though you seem to be speaking Japanese. Alice gulps and quickly runs to me, her blond hair billowing behind her.

"Is that them?" she asks agitatedly when I get up and pat the dust from my bottom.

"Yeah, I think so," I say, smiling a bit as she grabs my arm with one hand and quickly tries to compose her dress and hair with the other. "Don't be nervous, pumpkin, you'll love them and I just know they'll love you, too."

Even if I say this, I can only try to pretend that the sound of your voice makes nothing for me, when in reality, I feel like I'm about to have a stroke. I am experiencing a small feeling of euphoria inside, but I prefer to keep a low profile, so as to not alarm Alice. I can keep it cool. I've been doing it professionally for years.

"Don't tell me not to be nervous, what about you?" Alice hisses, looking up at me with a cute pout. "Aren't _you_ supposed to be nervous?"

"I'm fine." I assure her, caressing the top of her head.

"Sure you are…" she mumbles, frowning worriedly at me. "Dad, we can…"

One of the dog barks again and the sound of keys entering the door's lock and turning can be heard. In my ears, it echoes like the sound of a hornet announcing the start of a war, but I school my features to keep them calm and…well, as mature and as confident as I can.

One of the heavy doors creaks open and the first figure emerges, at once being assaulted by both dogs, and I recognize Itachi. He looks as I remember, with long hair that is now a dark grey color, tied in a loose pony tail, still tall and imposing with expensive-looking clothes that fail in being casual. I can see signs of age making him resemble Fugaku-san, but still with a kinder face. Itachi pets both dogs to calm them down, and you come in as well, followed by a teenage boy who shuts the door behind him that I fail to observe properly, because the moment my eyes set on you, everything else seems to disappear. I am vaguely aware of Alice squeezing my arm before my lungs effectively forget they are supposed to function in providing air.

You are wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, classic but stylish black boots and a casual dark blue, short sleeved shirt that suits your still elegant and fit body all too well. Sunglasses cover your eyes, but I can see that you still look far too young for your age, and far too handsome. Your hair, unlike Itachi's, is still mostly pitch black, only now instead of only having those gorgeous bluish highlights, I can see flecks of dark grey as well.

The female Akita jumps around you happily, trying to get both yours and the boy's attention, and you smile at her before crouching down and petting her snout with both hands affectionately.

I am mesmerized by your calm smile, perfect teeth showing, and when you speak to the dog, you do so in Japanese, but I don't care about what you're saying, I just want to focus on your voice and on all the things it makes me feel, even though I can't seem to be able to identify what they are, exactly. It's like going back in time, and I just want to absorb this new image of you. I'm so overwhelmingly happy that you look just the way I had expected you to.

"Naruto!"

It's Itachi's voice that wakes me up from my trance, but only for a moment, because at your brother's exclamation, you seem to notice me and your face tilts up and turns in my direction. I can't see your eyes, but I just know you are looking at me. The smile fades from your face. I don't take it as a bad thing; it's been years since we've seen each other, so it's only normal.

Before I can process anything, arms surround my shoulders in a tight hug, and I notice that it's your brother, because you are still standing there, way too distant, like a vivid dream I desperately want to be real. I allow myself to breathe before I pass out from lack of oxygen.

"It's good to see you!" Itachi says in English, leaning away a bit with his hands on my shoulders, and have to look away from you to look at him, who is still taller than me, unfortunately. I pat his back in a friendly, familiar way, remembering that the world does not revolve around you and that I also missed Itachi. "If we had known you were here already we'd have gotten home sooner! And why didn't you call? We would've picked you up from the airport."

"You're saying way too many things at once for me to know how to properly answer to them," I laugh, finding it surprisingly easy to regain my composure. "We're alright; we got here safe and sound, and your parents were the perfect hosts. It's already enough that you lot have to put up with me."

"Don't be stupid," Itachi replies, smiling openly and shaking my shoulders a bit. "Damn, you look _old_."

"Geez, thanks," I mutter, rolling my eyes and making a displeased face. "You just crushed my ego to crumps."

"Nah, I didn't mean it like that," the older Uchiha explains, letting go of me. "I meant to say that you look _older_. We haven't seen each other since you were, what, 27? 28? You definitely look different. But don't worry, you're aging rather gracefully, if I may say so."

I grin at him and he ruffles my hair affectionately, just like he used to do when we were younger, making me feel rather nostalgic and pleasantly childish. I can sense you approaching, the dogs following you faithfully, but you're still a few steps behind the young teenage boy, that Itachi pulls by the arm to his side.

When you move to remove the sunglasses from your face, my eyes are instantly drawn to you, desperate for a glimpse of yours, and you don't disappoint, staring straight at me with that cool, impassive look that is so yours.

Those eyes are as intense and deceivingly dark as I remember, like the troubled sea on a stormy night, so erotically alive and clever it makes a familiar shiver run down my spine.

The corner of your mouth twitches a bit in a semblance of a smile. When your lips part, I watch them move as if my life depends on it before you speak in that amazing husky voice of yours "Hello, Naruto."

I swallow hard, a little taken aback by the chills running all over my skin, but offer a small smile as well, relieved that you didn't address me with your usual aloofness or distaste.

"Hi, Sasuke," I greet back, my voice somehow more steady than what I had predicted, your name sounding oddly sinful coming from my mouth after all these years.

There is a light tension in the air, but not a hostile one. It's not exactly awkward, it's just…curious, cautious.

"Naruto, this is my son, Toshi." Itachi introduces, effectively cutting the heaviness in the air around us, which makes me focus my attention on the younger male and notice for the first time how incredibly attractive he is. He has the same pale, defined features all Uchiha seem to possess, his expression very serious. His hair is rebel and as black as black can get; his eyes are minty green and shine under the setting sun's light. The boy nods politely at me, and I nod back. I can't help but to feel an odd pang of sadness at the memory of those green eyes, and once more, Itachi doesn't seem to be too keen on letting the atmosphere grow tense, because he immediately looks at my daughter and flashes her a smile that is as charming as it is seductive. "And who is this beautiful young lady?"

I look down at Alice, whose eyes are opened wide as she stares at the Uchiha trio with obvious embarrassment and fascination. Her eyes quickly travel from Itachi to Toshi, then to you, the wheels spinning rather clumsily inside her head.

"Ah, this is my girl, Alice," I introduce, softly, brushing my fingers through her hair. "Say 'hi' to Toshi, Itachi and Sasuke, honey."

She blushes violently but politely bows down to all of you, effectively earning a lick to the nose from the white Akita in the process. She makes a disgusted face and straightens up at once, blushing even more furiously.

You are looking at her with interest, something in your mind causing your features to soften. It makes my heart melt all the way down to my feet. Toshi smirks at Alice's discomfiture, and it reminds me so much of you at that age that I find myself feeling a bit emotional.

"I think she likes you," the boy notes in perfect English, crossing his arms over his chest. "She doesn't usually like the female gender. That's Yuzuki, by the way, and the male is Yuudai."

"Huh…yeah," Alice stutters, chuckling nervously and rubbing the remnants of dog slobber from her nose with the back of her hand. "Anyway…It's…it's nice to meet you all."

The three of them bow to her as well, in a more graceful fashion, which effectively makes her grin more confidently.

"We are very happy to meet you, as well," Itachi says honestly, winking and extending his hand cordially to her. She looks at me and I nod at her encouragingly. She takes Itachi's hand. "Which is why we should both help Toshi feeding the dogs before dinner time. My mother doesn't like having them around the house, so they have a little corner of their own where they spend the night, right next to our family shrine in the main garden. Have you seen it yet?"

I feel like laughing at Itachi's not so subtle excuse for leaving the two of us alone.

"No, Sir, not yet." Alice mutters, letting go of my arm with a bit of hesitance.

"Please, drop the formalities and call me Itachi," the elder Uchiha requests, good-naturedly, already pulling her along as he walks away, Toshi whistling to make the dogs follow them, which they do, in the most obedient of ways. "You are going to love it here; we live rather traditionally, but the Japanese have the most fascinating rules of conduct. I have spent most of my life in England, did Naruto tell you?"

"Yes…" Alice replies before looking at me over her shoulder, as Itachi keeps mumbling stuff, a strange expression crossing her features. I know she is a little disgruntled at the prospect of being dragged away by two complete strangers, but at the same time, there is understanding there, and excitement, the light in her eyes wishing me good-luck.

I wave at her while shaking my head from side to side, somehow moved by the scene while you move closer to stop beside me, both of us watchin them until they disappear around the house.

For a few seconds, we just stand here, side by side, close enough to be conscious of each other, but not enough to touch.

The reality of your body is fascinating to me. Like a ghost demanding awareness, your presence feels different from other people – strong, familiar, and so unmistakably _you_. It's like my soul has stirred to life in the presence of yours.

Relief washes over me like anguishing suffering melting away.

It feels nice to just have you around, to be conscious of your living existence.

I turn to you, not able to contain the way my mouth stretches to the sides in a huge smile. You look at me as well, head slightly tilted to the side with a curiosity that is expectant and almost innocent. You don't smile back, but your eyes are calm, watching me with that stoic attentiveness I had wanted to see for so long.

There are so many things I want to say to you, Sasuke, but even though I have opened my mouth, the words won't come out. I know it's a fragile moment, the one we are sharing, and even though I am so eager to finally talk to you the way we should've talked all those years ago, I know it's better to wait, to treasure the simplicity of the right now. Hopefully, we'll have time for it all.

You wait for me to say something, patiently. When I fail to do so, you make a familiar clucking sound with your tongue and break the silence. You casually hang your sunglasses in the collar of your shirt and say "Could you stop staring at me with that ridiculous look on your face? Because it's seriously creeping me out."

I swallow the lump in my throat down, the sound of your voice unblocking my momentary disability.

"Fucking hell, Sasuke…" I breathe out, a sudden happiness at the mere sight of you invading me. That's about all I can say before my body moves on its own and I'm pulling you in for a hug, my arms around your neck to hold you as close as I can. I bury my nose in our neck and my hands in your still spiky but silky hair, my whole being relishing in that amazing everything that is you.

You don't feel different from what I remember, your body full of all the right angles, perfect, and comfortable. You still smell of the delicious scent of Davidoff's _Cool Water_.

You tense a bit, but don't let your mind get the best out of you, because your arms surround my waist and you hug me back confidently, silently showing me that you have missed this as much as I have.

It feels right. Inside, I know I still want you and desire you with everything I have, and yet, it doesn't overpower the innocent need of you as person. There is lust, simmering deep, of course. How can I not feel it, when you are still as good-looking to me now as you were when we were younger? How can I not, when I still remember everything about you, about us, and that strong, inescapable chemistry that could always blow us away and make us forget everything?

Even now, your fire consumes me, making me burn all over.

But it's not the same as it was ten years ago. There is no raging desperation to possess you, to need for you to heal me and assure me that you still feel the same way, because, Sasuke, I know you do. Loving you is like breathing.

I just need…_you_. Your presence, your smell, your voice, your snappish words, and your company. I don't care if we ever get to make love, or even kiss again. I don't care if you no longer want to belong to me. You probably _do_ have someone else, because there is always someone out there who is desperately eager to keep you.

As long as you're happy, I'm happy.

You belong to you. You are free, and so am I. I gave you my heart and you chose to keep it, but that doesn't mean we have any obligation towards each other, just like we always thought we did. That was why we couldn't move on, because we wanted something from each other that was never the right choice.

It doesn't matter anymore. None of it does. You are Sasuke and I am Naruto, and we're no longer lovers. It doesn't matter as long as we can be friends. I just want you in my life. I can't live without you in it anymore. Even if we don't see each other every week, month, or even every year, I just want everything to be right, for us to finally find our rightful place in each other's future, like it's supposed to be.

My eyes water, something I had absolutely swore I wouldn't allow to happen, and yet, I'm far beyond caring at this point.

It's been far too long for me to try and act tough. It was because we both acted that way that we made so many mistakes. In the past, pride was always more important; that's why I want to bury it. Not every single bit of it, just the bad details, the pain, and the mistakes.

I sigh against your skin, infatuated by the softness of your cheek against my temple. That stupid, unwanted tear rolls down from my eye and I nuzzle my face against the curve of your neck, a weak sob escaping me.

You rub my lower back a little before your fists close around my sweater and you pull me even closer.

"You are such an idiot…" you whisper, but from your tone, I know you are smiling.

Everything feels different. Why does it feel different? Because we are older? Because we have, finally, understood what we were doing wrong?

Because we know we can't afford to screw anymore?

I value you more now than I ever did, and it's painful to realize it. I mean, you always meant the world to me, but now I have Alice, and she is the most important thing in my life, which means that you are placed on a different level in my heart and in my heart's priorities. It's not just about you and me, anymore, and yet, we need time for each other, to figure out where we stand, once and for all.

I can't believe I'm here, with you.

I want to say these things out loud, but again, I can't.

You push me slightly away and I let you, not really letting you go. Your expression is funny, because you are smiling, and yet, there is frown marring your forehead, and I let out a small, pathetic laugh.

"You're still so damned childish," you mumble, rubbing the tears away from my eyes with one firm, but gentle thumb. "Crybaby."

"I'm crying in defeat," I joke, my voice shaking a little at the feel of your fingers. "Why do you have to look so damn good at almost 45? Seriously? Bloody hell…"

You smirk cockishly, shaking your head from side to side.

"You were always making fun of me for doing skin treatments, and now look who's on top," you tease, ruffling my hair just like Itachi did a while ago. "I score, loser."

I bite my lip. Really, how can this feel so…casual? So normal?

"Bastard," I reply, cupping both your cheeks in my hands and looking at you in a way that I know is highly inappropriate, but I can't help it. "Ten years, Sasuke."

Your smirk diminishes to an inconsistent curve of lips. "No, Naruto. _Seventeen_," you correct, not moving away from my touch. "That's how long it took for the _right now_to not feel like it's the end of the world only wearing our underwear. I can barely believe it myself."

I bite my lip again, trying to prevent yet more stupid tears from falling.

"I missed you," I whisper, joining our foreheads together. "I missed you so much, Sasuke."

It's your turn to sigh, your breath warm and clean against my parted lips. We remain silent for a few seconds, somehow happy to just be in each other's arms like this, the contact intimate but oddly unsexual.

"Naruto…" you whisper back, one arm tightening around my waist while your other hand is flat against my chest as you caress it innocently. "We have to talk. About…well, everything."

"Yeah," I agree, closing my eyes. "We need it. I really…want to make it right."

I hear you inhaling sharply, but you don't answer. We stay like this for a few seconds, just to make sure that this is as real as it feels. Then, you heave a steady sigh and move away, only to press your lips to my forehead in chaste gesture of respect that almost brings me to tears again. However, I am proud to note that I'm too happy to find it in myself to cry anymore.

You move away, taking one step backwards so we're not so shamelessly pressed together and I let you go in the process, knowing that it's a sensible move to make. My body regrets the absence of yours instantly, but I don't complain.

Suddenly, we're not touching anymore. You shove your hands inside your pockets and I cross my arms over my chest, just to keep my hands from aching for you.

We exchange a significant look. I smile. You chew on the right corner of your lower lip in contemplation.

"Welcome home," you end up saying, in a delightfully casual and simple way, devoid of malice, and I understand the implications of your words all too well.

"Thank you," I whisper, with a small nod. "It sure feels like home, now."

You snort a bit, reminding me of you as a teenager, and lower your head in hopes that your bangs will conceal your broader smile, but I can still see it. It makes feel warm all over. When you straighten up and look at me, that seriousness is still there.

"We should probably go inside," you suggest in a relaxed demeanor. "They probably think we're screwing on the porch or something."

I laugh good-humoredly.

"God forbid," I reply sarcastically. "Not that it'd be a first. I reckon your dad already has his share of traumatizing images of us."

You smirk, but end up rolling your eyes. Your cheeks become slightly rosier and I feel my heart beating clumsier again. I feel slightly dizzy.

Why are you still so fucking beautiful after all these years? It's not fair. You don't make it any easier for me, ever.

In your eyes, I see that you are perceiving my thoughts, but thankfully, you keep your mouth shut and prefer to act as if you didn't notice. Instead, you shrug and make a harsh move with your head, towards house.

"Come on, my mom probably needs help in the kitchen," you say. "She said she was going to make something special for you."

"Don't tell me…" I gasp brightly, following you to the house. "She wouldn't!"

"Oh, I think she definitely would," you tease.

Together, we enter the wooden, traditional house as we exchange meaningless words, both content, I'm sure, in just being around each other without worrying about anything else.

I know we'll have to talk. Eventually, things will be brought up and we're going to have to confront ourselves (and each other), but I have faith in us, Sasuke, so I know we'll be fine, in the end, even if the healing process that leads us to it is painful.

I don't ever want to hurt you again.

For now, it's just you and me, and that's all that matters.

TBC…

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**Don't forget to let me know what you think! Authors appreciate feedback ;)**


	2. Part II: Moment for Us

**A/N: **I always get carried away so easily with these two. This might actually be a five part fic, who knows? We'll see how the next part goes, but we'll have some Sasuke POV for sure!

**The events of ten years previously they keep mentioning is the ones taking place in the fic 'Love's Illusions'.**

A big thank you to **loveandallthat **for doing such a fast and amazing job at revising this chapter.

**Disclaimer: **They're not mine. Kishimoto Masashi owns them, and he better start making it worth it or else! *shakes angry fist in the air*

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**Recycling Hearts**

**Part Two: Moment for Us**

I remember that we fucked twelve times before we actually kissed. How we managed to do that I have no idea. In fact, I have no idea how anyone _can__not _kiss during sex at all, but it happened to us. It wasn't for lack of persistence on my part, but you always rejected it no matter how many times I took the initiative, and it didn't help that you always seemed to anticipate those moments I thought about kissing you when I thought you weren't expecting. I couldn't understand why you were okay with sex but not kissing. Sure, you always talked about how you didn't want to add unnecessary complications to our relationship as it was, and yet I genuinely didn't think it could get any more complicated than us being childhood friends with benefits.

Of course, I had been very wrong while you, being the genius you always were, were absolutely right.

I have to admit that, at first, I didn't really delve much on the reason why we started having sex in the first place. My body reacted to you, your body reacted to me, and it seemed normal that we'd both want to act upon it. We were teenagers, so we fucked each other senseless when we had to, and it was all very natural because it felt right, and good, mostly because we no longer used our fists every time we got angry at each other. Well, sometimes we still , details…

When not kissing you became an issue, I also failed to see that something was definitely wrong. I became quickly obsessed with your mouth, wondering over and over again why was it that you didn't want to kiss me, angry beyond belief at your blatant rejection every time I tried to kiss you. Still, the image of you while we fucked and the ecstasy I felt were always enough to make me forget I wanted to kiss you in the first place.

However, when we weren't having sex, my mind tricked me with a weird curiosity of how your lips might feel and how your tongue might taste. It didn't take much for me to think about kissing you every single time I looked at your mouth, and it had nothing to do with sex, or the sexual attraction we had, which was something that really confused me. The impulse became strong, and you were aware of it, because you'd always choose a sexual position in which we weren't facing each other.

I became so frustrated that, one day at school, after the day's classes were over, I grabbed your arm and stopped you from the leaving the classroom until every single one of our classmates had left and the place was empty. You snarled at me, cursed at me under your breath, but I could sense a panicked aura coming from you, and it was maddening because I didn't know what was it about me that scared you so much that made you fear such a simple thing as _kissing._

I remember pushing you against one of the desks and you glaring me with such animosity that I was sure you were more than ready to attack me with everything you had. Then again, I was determined to settle things once and for all and a punch or kick from you would definitely not be enough to dissuade me. I think you saw it in my eyes because, as I moved closer, you pressed your hands against my chest as if to stop me, but they were shaking. I remember you hissing a venomous 'don't you dare'.

We struggled for a bit before your wrist was pressed against my Adam's apple to prevent me from leaning in, me trying to shove your hands away and hissing at you.

It was the weirdest, most absurd semi-fight we ever had, because I wanted to immobilize you without hurting you, and even though you were trying to keep me away, there was a feebleness in your gestures that was so very unlike you that it took me by surprise.

I ended up somehow pushing you back, forcing you to sit on the desk so that your body lost some of its strength, managing to restrain both your wrists behind your back with my hands as I settled myself between your legs. The position was highly uncomfortable, causing our chests to collide as I had to trust the edge of the desk to keep my own balance so I wouldn't fall on top of you. We were both panting furiously, our faces close like they had never been before. The way my heart started beating, so loudly in my ears, was different from anything I had ever felt. We were both still, staring into each other's eyes unblinkingly. Then, you breathed in and your eyes lowered to my mouth before your head tilted to the side slightly, the gesture creating small explosions of arousal and excitement in my brain. Vaguely I registered, not for the first time, how stupidly good-looking you were before tilting my own head to the opposite and leaning forward, licking my lips just as yours parted slightly.

When our mouths crashed, everything became clear to me and I understood you like I never had, not since that night when we first had sex in that angry hormonal frenzy.

It was like I didn't know what real kissing felt like until that very moment, like every kiss I had ever shared with other people had been savorless, bland and meaningless.

For someone who had rejected me so determinedly, you became impressively compliant and slightly desperate, as if, in the middle of your internal denial, you had also wanted this as much as I had. Your lips rubbed over mine, with mine, and the experimental aspect of it – not really taking the intensity away from it – was like nothing I had expected.

Your chest pressed forward against mine, the action probably hurting your wrists because you whimpered. I actually gasped when your tongue lashed out to meet mine, curious and eager, teasingly luring mine into a noisy and slippery dance I quickly became addicted to. You seemed to taste differently from others, too, better.

I released your wrists to hug your waist, and you immediately swung your arms around my neck, taking advantage of the new proximity to intensify the kiss, your legs linking around my thighs and pulling me so close it was as if you were trying to merge us together.

"I don't want this…" you hissed angrily against my mouth. "I _don't_…" you reinforced, without, however, doing anything to stop the kiss, your fingers curling painfully around the hair in my skull. Your words sounded distant to me, and in spite of the conviction in them, your actions didn't match them at all.

Still, I realized I didn't want any of that either. Or I did, but it was so wrong on so many levels, and so right but so, so unbelievably dangerous all of a sudden.

I regretted ever having wanted to kiss you in the first place because, yes, apparently things could become more complicated between us.

I realized why I had wanted to kiss you so much. I realized I was probably in love with you, and that, also probably, you might feel the same way about me and feel as horrified and as scared as I was. And, as if that hadn't been enough of a shock already, I realized that, even as my mind was panicking and wanting to let go of you and _stop_, my body seemed to ignore it altogether and just kept holding you, needing you. Your presence – everything about you had become suddenly overwhelming.

I had thought all that crazy kissing would lead to sex, but even though we were touching each other in an eager but cautious way, it never happened.

We kissed for so long my mouth became numb. I couldn't seem to get enough of you, even if it was becoming increasingly hard to breathe, even if I could hear your low grunts of affliction. Only when the sound of footsteps echoed in the halls outside the classroom did we break apart, gasping for air. You immediately pushed me away with that brute force I thought you had forgotten you possessed, not meeting my eyes, before you quickly grabbed your things and left without even looking at me.

It took days before we spoke to each other again. I needed to collect my thoughts, to understand what exactly was happening between us, and you seemed to be in equal need to have your own space and time for yourself, away from me.

It didn't take long for me to realize that I was, indeed, pretty much infatuated with you. I didn't know where it came from, if it was recent or if I had always felt that way about you, but I knew I wanted you, I knew how much you meant to me and how much losing you wasn't an option in my book.

From the way you looked at me when you thought I wasn't looking, and the visible stiffness in your body when I walked by, it became very clear to me that it was mutual.

So, even though it was scary, I came to terms with myself that I wanted you, and I wanted to make sure you came to terms with yourself, as well. We were in this together and we needed each other.

When I suggested we talked, a few days later, you surprised me by accepting.

That talk was the first serious one we ever had, the first one where neither was thinking about insulting the other or trying to come out on top – we simply discussed our friendship, what it meant to the both of us, and if those weird feelings of lust and longing we were having towards each other – not that we had phrased it quite like that, nor used these overly romantic words – were worth pursuing by trying out for something more than just sex.

I had never felt that way for anyone, so in my teenage brain, something so intense would always be worth it, definitely, and I wanted you to acknowledge that I was choosing _you _over girls, over anyone. Not only that, I wanted you to choose me as well, because I didn't think I'd be able to live with wanting you and not having you. Going back to being friends seemed impossible to me.

Of course, your reasoning wasn't as impulsive as mine. To my infinite joy, you actually admitted to having feelings for me, but kept on throwing the what ifs and whatnots in my face, and to me, it all seemed trivial. If something this big was happening to us after so long of being friends, it just had to be meant to be. My reasoning was stupid, you said, there was no such thing as 'meant to be' and we were both guys, what exactly did I expect to accomplish with it? You didn't want to be seen as a gay kid in high school, and what would our friends say? Your parents were going to kill you. We already had sex, I reminded you, and so it was just a matter of keeping things behind doors like before.

It was weird, the face you made at the suggestion, as if you hated the idea but couldn't work with anything else. In the end, we agreed to start a serious relationship while keeping it a secret for the time being.

_We won't last a month. _Those were your exact words. Deep inside, I was scared that you might be right once more. But I was in love, and I was focused on proving our fears wrong because love, they say, conquers all.

It was hard from the very beginning. Missing you when you were right beside me was more painful than I thought, and even the sex became a frustrating experience when I couldn't find complete satisfaction in the usual quickies in hidden places at the most absurd times. We fought a lot because I wanted more of this and you wanted more of that, because you didn't do this when I needed you to, and because you didn't like the way I spoke to you on that particular day, and hell, did I have to be so serious in pretending or was I just being a jerk to you because…?

Still, when we actually managed a few hours to ourselves, when it was just the two of us, the world became a better place and all that seemed meaningless. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, months turned to years and we were still together because we were both worth it in each other's eyes. I will never know the exact moment when I started to truly love you so desperately I couldn't imagine my life without you in it, and loving you like that was just that easy because I knew you felt the same way about me.

And then we started college and started living together. I'm not sure if we were more mature than before, but the truth was, by then we were far too tired of hiding to keep doing it. Today, I wonder if I should've just kidnapped you and moved to the North Pole, because it sure would've been easier than facing the bullshit we had had to take from friends and family.

It's not like I blame them for what happened, but I can't help but to think that it was always better when it was just the two of us without people from the outside interfering, telling on me, telling on you, badmouthing, advising, criticizing…

But then again, this is just the teenager in me talking, the one who's never really grown up, the one who wanted to bask in everything we were and keep living in that oblivious world of our own for the rest of our lives.

There was nothing healthy about what we had, I know that now. I do.

Yet the thought that those unhealthy feelings were the very things that brought us together haunts me every single day.

000

Dinner with your family is far noisier than I recall. Itachi and Mikoto-san do most of the talking, but Alice intervenes here and there once in a while, clearly feeling more at ease since, apparently, she has bonded quite a lot with Itachi and Toshi. I can bet on her fascination for your older brother turning into a crush soon – a healthy one, hopefully – even though I would probably prefer her fancying your nephew instead, since he's close to her age. On second thought, I hope she doesn't fancy anyone for at least another decade or two. Adolescence is something that scares and creeps me out enough as is.

To my infinite horror, I notice that my eyes seem very fond of your figure, because I can't seem to look at anything else, especially when I'm not talking. It's the con of sitting across from you. Alice is sitting beside me and has been struggling with her chopsticks for a while now – it's her own fault, because Mikoto-san wanted to give her normal cutlery – so before I can even start to help her, you silently show her how to correctly use them by demonstrating with your own chopsticks, and she tries to imitate what you do, her cheeks a bit red – I certainly hope she stops blushing around you Uchihas, otherwise I'll have to start worrying pretty soon – but she's very attentive, clearly trying her best. You shake your head gently when she doesn't do it properly and she nods, correcting her fingers before looking at you with anticipation, as if she wants to impress you and is eager to win your approval.

This confuses me, in a way, because I don't know how seeing you two interact makes me feel. In my life since we broke up and I got divorced, it has always been Alice and me, because she has no part whatsoever of the past we shared together, just like you were no part of our life while she was growing up.

It's not like I hadn't dreamed of the day when you two would meet (many times, to be honest) and questioned myself about how it would be and so on, but even if, in my heart, I had wanted to see you again, Sasuke, reality kept throwing me off, telling me that it might not ever happen.

Now that it has, I don't know what to do. Do you even understand that it's not just about you and me anymore? Do you understand that, no matter what becomes of us from now on, there will always be Alice, above anything else, someone whom you have to respect and whose presence you'll have to acknowledge?

I can't imagine you being hostile to such an angelical creature like her, but then again, it's not like it's your obligation to love her and care about her, even if she's mine.

Now that we've made it this far, I don't want to impose anything on you, but some facts cannot be pushed to the side. I do hope you're aware of this, because I'm sure that you carry some baggage with you as well, and I'm ready to deal with it, whatever it is.

It's weird; your presence is the same as I remember, and yet, there is a calmer, considerably more laid back aura about you that makes me drop my defenses slightly. You are still stoic and well-mannered, but you seem less...I don't know, cold? Less…impenetrable?

It feels better. I know it'll be okay. We have both matured a lot during these past seventeen years, and somehow, it truly feels like we can go back to those days when our interactions were as smooth and as easy as breathing.

All I know is that I find it hard to look away from you. I'm sure you notice it, Sasuke, but prefer to ignore me and focus on something else, and I'm thankful.

I feel so damn embarrassed I'm actually praying for the floor to swallow me up, but I can't stop, I just want to take in as much of you as I can, and God, embarrassing or not, just seeing you feels more amazing than anything I ever felt in the last few years.

Is it weird that I feel sixteen all over again?

000

I finish unrolling the fluffy white futon in my wide but simple room just as Alice steps in through the open sliding door, barefooted and already wearing her baby blue PJ's, her hair still wet from the shower.

I sit on the futon Indian style and she smiles at me as she comes closer, extending me a comb and a pink hair band. "Could you braid my hair for me?"

I roll my eyes a bit and smile back, grabbing the objects and gesturing for her to position herself. She immediately slumps down gracelessly on the futon with her back to me, throwing her long strands of hair over her shoulders.

"You don't usually braid you hair at night," I notice, gathering her hair in both my hands.

"I want it to be all wavy tomorrow," she explains simply. "It'll be pretty, I think."

I smirk a little. "Trying to impress someone?"

She jumps a bit and tenses defensively. "No, dad!" she exclaims, as if the thought is absurd, but I can tell from her tone that it's exactly the opposite. "I'm just…They're all so good-looking in this family, and tomorrow there's a lot of people coming, right? I just want to look good."

I hum disbelievingly. "You always look good, Ali; you're naturally beautiful."

She doesn't answer, letting her muscles relax.

As I carefully run the comb through her golden locks, I can't help but to think about how silly it is that she is so clumsy, sometimes even tom-boyish in her demeanor, but so annoyingly girly where it matters. Twenty years ago I would never see myself raising a girl (or any children, for that matter), and yet, here I am, loving every minute of it.

"I bumped into Sasuke a minute ago," she says after a while. "He asked me if I needed anything, and said to go to him if I did."

I make a sound with the back of my throat, not really knowing how to reply.

"He seems really nice," she adds. I snort.

"Itachi and Mikoto-san are nice; Sasuke is…" I think about it for a while, trying to find the right word for it. "Well-bred, I guess. Most of the time, at least."

Alice laughs, softly.

"That's not a nice way to talk about your boyfriend," she teases, as I set the comb down over my thigh and separate her hair into three identical parts.

"First, he's not my boyfriend," I say, pulling her hair slightly in a warning way that makes her whine a bit. "So don't ever refer to him like that here, because he might have a real boyfriend who would definitely not be happy about hearing it. Secondly, I know Sasuke better than anyone else, so I know exactly how much of a bastard he can be, and also how much of an amazing person he is."

She is silent for a while, and then asks "What if he _does _have a boyfriend?"

It's my turn to tense. "What of it?"

"Don't you want to be with him?"

Of course she would have to be blunt like that, she always is.

"I don't know," I reply, braiding her hair slowly – the task is always hard for my hands, no matter how many times I perform it. "I just want us to be in each other's lives if possible. The rest, only time will tell. And it's not about what I want at all, so… I just want to make it right, that's all."

She makes an affirmative sound and sighs.

"I hope you can have it, whatever it is that you want," she mumbles, just as I finish braiding her hair and start tying it with the band. "I want you to be happy."

"All done," I say.

She rolls her bottom on the futon until she's on her knees, looking at me with a determined and hopeful expression. I quirk my eyebrows up at her questioningly.

"Since we came all the way here, you do what you have to do," Alice retorts, almost demandingly, big blue eyes not even blinking. "You don't have to worry about me at all, I'll be fine. I have Itachi and Toshi, and Mikoto-san, they're all really nice, so…"

I smile at her and shake my head from side to side, my heart swelling with pride and love for my little girl.

"We're here on vacation," I say to her, reaching out to caress her cheek. "You and me. Sasuke is just an extra. A very attractive extra, but an extra nonetheless."

She doesn't smile back, instead frowning at me as if she is not pleased with me joking. "I'm serious, Dad! We'll have time for vacations; you should focus on fixing things with him! That's what you've been wanting for so long, right? That's why you've always been unhappy."

Once more, Alice is way too perceptive – way more perceptive of me than myself – and I find the need to refute her words, because, really, that's not true at all, is it? I was happy. I am happy. Am I one hundred happy? Perhaps not, but who in the world is?

Just as I was going to tell her exactly this, a soft knock on the door makes us both jump. Alice looks over her shoulder with her mouth hanging slightly open, and I look up and see your head peaking inside. It takes only a second for this burning heat to fill me from head to toe.

"Is this a bad time?" you inquire lowly, your expression calm but unreadable.

"No!" Alice exclaims, quickly getting up and stumbling a bit on the process, her sudden awkwardness making me feel amused and exasperated. It's clear she wants to leave us alone as quickly as possible, and while the gesture is cute, I can't help but to think that she could've been a little less obvious. "No, we were just…I was just…I'm heading to bed now."

"You do that," I mutter, waving her off with my hand as a slight nervousness makes the other hand rub my trousers anxiously. "Sleep tight, Ali."

"Yeah, you too, Dad," she replies, blowing a kiss at me and heading for the door. "Goodnight, Sasuke," she adds, grinning widely at you and bowing down.

"Goodnight, Alice," you say, offering her a small smile that is beautiful beyond words, so simple in its honesty. She leaves the room and you watch her for a bit before exposing your whole figure in the entrance. I notice that you're already wearing sleeping clothes, more specifically, black pajama pants and a dark blue t-shirt, and shit, you look at me and I feel my cheeks burning up even more. I really hope you didn't hear the conversation. It's already enough that I am constantly making a fool out of myself for feeling so stupidly fascinated by you, even now.

"You okay?" you inquire, frowning suspiciously at me without making a move to step inside the room.

"I'm fine," I assure you, heaving a frustrated sigh. "We were just having a father and daughter conversation, nothing special."

"Okay." You lift one of your hands for me to see that it's holding a pack of some Japanese brand of cigarettes and what looks like a small silvery ashtray. "I'm going to have smoke outside, and was wondering if you wanted to keep me company? If you're not too tired, that is."

It's stupid, the way my heart beats faster in excitement at the offer.

"I'm not tired at all," I reply at once, not without adding a more subdued, "Especially not for you."

You quirk one eyebrow up at me but refrain from commenting. I feel like banging my head against the nearest wall but stare at you instead, fully aware that I'm still blushing like a fucking school girl. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I can do this, I know I can. As Alice said, I do want to be with you, beside you, so we can talk, laugh, cry, yell, hang out… whatever it is that we have to do together, and that's what turns me into this absurd mess of clumsiness.

"Can I come in?" you ask simply.

"You don't even have to ask."

You enter the room and slide the door shut behind you, which makes me feel a bit uncomfortable since it's the first time in years that we've been completely alone somewhere with privacy and in such a convenient place for…sleeping… and…doing things in a horizontal position.

"You're not going to smoke here, are you?"

Your naked feet – I had almost forgotten how perfect your feet were, and still are – land on the futon and I watch them move, one after the other as you head for the wall opposite the door.

"I just told you I was going outside, didn't I?" you retort, and before I can really understand what is happening, all I see is you pressing your hand to the supposed wall, making it slide to the side and revealing the night outside.

"Oh…" is all I can say, feeling surprised and stupid.

"The rooms on this side all have access to the central garden," you explain easily while I move on my hands and knees and go take a peak outside. "It's kind of like the house is a big square that surrounds it. There's the porch, too, that follows the structure of it. That arch over there leads to the temple, with the _Dojo_, and the main garden."

When my head reaches the warm night air, my shoulder bumps into your leg. I take a deep breath, inhaling the flowery scents and for a moment, the feel of your body against mine reminds me that once we were close and that touching you was as natural as blinking. It feels natural now, and the fact calms me down considerably.

I see the dark and polished wooden floors of the porch beneath me. Relaxing yellow lights illuminate the wide area and I can see a lovely well-tended _Zen_ garden, with lots of exotic plants and a path made of grey pebbles for people to walk through, very typically Japanese. I'm sure it's colorful, but I can't tell in the dim lighting. It's quiet outside, apart from the distant sound the cicadas make, even though I can see lights on over the other side of the house on the rooms across from mine.

"So…peaceful," I breathe out.

"I love this porch," you confess softly. "It's my favorite place in the house."

"I can see why."

I feel something heavy but comforting landing on the top of my head – your hand – so I look up at you and you look down at me, and for a few seconds, we simply stare at each other in silence. Your fingers comb through my hair gently, and you look calm, as usual, but apart from that, I can't tell what you're thinking at all. I used to hate it when you hid your emotions like that, but right now, I know that, like me, you're probably just basking in how easy it is to fall back into that old habit of touching without fearing the outcome.

I remember that night, ten years ago, when I was scared of my leg even touching yours. I was so terrified that my whole body wanted to spasm when I so much as poked you, because I knew what was going to happen, I knew I would lose control and completely disregard the reason why I left you in the first place. I remember that, as soon as I allowed myself to touch you like it was nothing, the complete opposite happened and I couldn't help myself anymore. I didn't even notice the moment I started reminiscing, or the moment I started missing you all over again. Next thing I knew, I was flirting with you, my hands lingering on your arm, on your knee, and then we were outside and I was pulling you close for a kiss – just one, for old times' sake – and then another, and another, until I simply had to have you. You made yourself such an easy prey for me to attack, too. I still hate myself for it.

I don't understand why it feels different now. I am still very attracted to you, but I know I can't act upon it. I know that, if you wanted to, I wouldn't say no to you. Do I want to kiss you? Do I want to just stare at you for the rest the night – the rest of the week? Do I want to hug you close again and listen to your voice until no other sound makes sense to me anymore?

Do I still want to kidnap you and take you away to a place as far as I can?

A thousand times, yes. I want everything of yours; I want it all. God, Sasuke, I want you. But I know that it's too much to ask, so right now, I'll only take as much as you're willing to give, because, after what I've done to you, I have no right to be selfish.

It was my fault we got in this mess in the first place

If only I hadn't…

If only…

But, aren't I being a bit of a hypocrite? Would I really take everything back? Would I really accept a past without having you like that? Would I throw everything we had away just for the sake of an easier life?

"Naruto," you mutter serenely, your hand sliding down to my cheek before rubbing it with a soft thumb. "I'm going outside."

I breathe in through my nose and close my eyes, letting my head fall to the side so it's resting against your thigh – I can feel your heat through the fabric.

"Okay," I murmur, with a nod. "Just gimme a second to change into something more comfortable. You and your PJ's are making me envious."

You make a sound that resembles a low chuckle.

"You'll have to start by getting your face away from my leg so we can both move, moron."

I groan in displeasure, but re-open my eyes and move away from you, sitting down on my heels.

Before I can tell you that you don't have to leave, you're already stepping out and out of sight, and I all but sigh. Being near you drains me, and yet I feel good in too many ways.

I quickly crawl over to my suitcase and fish out a pair of white sweatpants and a green t-shirt. I know you won't be peeking on me, so I don't bother to close the door to the porch as I change.

I hear the sound of a lighter clicking, followed by the distinct scent of something familiar but that's not exactly tobacco.

I go outside and see you already sitting down with your back leaning against the door, both legs stretched out before you, crossed at the ankles. You're looking up, at the starry sky, one had over your stomach, the other holding what looks like a cigarette but not really.

"I knew something smelt familiar," I tease, slumping down next to you, noticing the ashtray and the pack of cigarettes resting between us. You smirk at me – God, that smirk couldn't be more sinful if you tried – and I force myself to look away from you and eye the joint instead. "I didn't know you were still into that."

"I'm not, really," you say, shrugging elegantly. "But I'm on my first long vacation in years. It's my right to be a little reckless."

"I'm not even going to ask where you got that," I say, smiling. I fall silent, biting my lower lip before asking "Will you share it with me?"

You quirk a not-so-surprised eyebrow up at me. "What would Alice say if she knew?" The tone is mocking, so I punch your arm without using a lot of force, but you still make an annoyed noise of protest.

"What Alice doesn't know can't hurt her, so give it here." I say.

And then, completely out of the blue, you snort and start laughing out loud, and all I can do is stare, my stomach flipping pleasantly at the sound.

"What are you laughing about?" I inquire stupidly. I don't know if I should be horrified or marveled and that incessant laughter coming from you. "Oh my God, you're already high, aren't you?"

This makes you laugh even harder which is... pretty amazing, because I haven't seen you like this since we were teenagers, and even then, seldom did you show this side of you. It's an unfortunate fact, because your laughter is something akin to beautiful, free but not hysterical, not loud enough to attract attention, but clear and pure like a crystalline spring.

"You're seriously creeping me out," I joke with a chuckle, not able to prevent being infected by you. "You're so weird."

"Sh-shut up," you manage to blurt out between cackles, wiping the tears away from your eyes with your free hand. You take a few shaky breaths that fail to stabilize your mood. "You're the weird one, always looking at me like you're afraid I'll vanish if you so much as blink. Fucking moron."

Ah, you know me far too well. Then again, I'm not that subtle, am I? My bad.

"It's not like I can help it!" I defend, punching your arm again and being punched by you in return, good-naturedly. You snort yet again and resume laughing.

I snatch the joint from your hand, and take a long, slow drag without looking away from you. This kind of brings back memories, good ones, I muse, expelling the smoke and instantly feeling a bit lightheaded. My head falls back and the back of it hits the wooden door as I watch you. It takes a while for you to calm down, but I let you work yourself through this on your own, because, somehow, I have the feeling that you'll never stop if I keep talking.

You're probably making fun of me for some reason, and it's alright if you are; I don't mind what you think about me, right now, as long as it makes you laugh like this. I would make a fool out of myself over and over again just to see this side of you every day.

Vaguely, I wonder why this is happening to you. You always dealt with things differently from other people, as if your own body is awkward and doesn't know how to properly react to emotional stimulus, and it gets me wondering if this is your alternative reaction to something else entirely.

Are you laughing because you feel like crying instead? Do you feel resented, in some way?

Are you genuinely happy or you simply don't know what to do with your feelings and ended up resorting to this?

I do know you better than anyone else, and yet, figuring you out is still too much of a challenge.

Eventually, your laughter slowly dies out and you wipe at your eyes again, breathing in as if to make sure you are done. You gesture for me to hand the joint over, and I do, still watching you shamelessly as you inhale, perfectly calm, now, your eyes trained somewhere in front of you.

"Better?" I inquire.

"All better," you assure, confidently.

We sit quietly, listening to the song of the cicadas. It's such a wonderful windless night. You move the ashtray and set it on your thigh, and we share the joint in quiet companionship, and when you hand it over to me and I hand it over to you, your eyes meet and our fingers touch, and there's always something that seems to fall perceptively in place, pieces of some shattered bits of our past selves coming together bit by bit, slowly re-constructing what seemed to impossible to put back together.

Sometimes, you smile a bit, just a bit, as if to reassure me of something. I'm still not sure what it is, but I feel relieved all the same. You presence soothes me. This silence is intimate and comfortable, and it feels good, casual and safe. It's been far too long since I've last smoked something other than normal tobacco and my head becomes slightly fuzzy fairly quickly, but that only makes me feel even more relaxed.

For the first time ever, I realize that we've both been carrying these shattered pieces around throughout the years, not wanting to let go of them even if they seemed impossible to put back together. I realize that it's not only shattered bits of ourselves we've been carrying, but also bits of each other. I couldn't fix myself alone if I tried. I can see that now.

"Why do you do it?" you ask gently after a while, smashing the remains of the stick on the ashtray before grabbing the pack of cigarettes and setting everything on your other side so they're no longer between us. I vaguely wonder if that's some kind of invitation for me to move closer, but I don't want to read too much into it.

"Do what?"

"Look at me like that."

You pull your knees to your chest and hug them, resting your cheek over one of them as you look at me with that weird contemplative simplicity that still drives me crazy. You were always stoic and composed, but most of the times, when you were really angry, sad or happy, your eyes would fire up and show so much emotion it was breathtaking and extremely intimidating. In spite of that, I found it easier to deal with you when I knew what you were feeling.

I guess being like this, hiding yourself behind that mask, is supposed to put me at ease, or maybe it's just a shield you're using to protect yourself from me. I don't mind it, I can't expect you to be like me – I don't want you to – and you have every right to keep your heart hidden if you want. I know what this moment means, because we share so many things that can't be forgotten, our link strong enough for me to simply know how you feel, even if you don't show it.

I lick my suddenly dry lips and cross my arms over my chest.

"I suppose I'm still…drawn to you, even now," I confess, feeling that stupid blush ascending my cheeks. It's not like I'm embarrassed about speaking my mind, it's just the way I react to you, lately, for some reason. "I can't help it. I've always felt this way, and probably always will. Running away from it doesn't make it disappear, you know."

Your mouth makes a small pout at my blatant admission and your eyes narrow, reminding me of a cat. "How ironic," you mutter, not without a hint of sarcasm that makes me grin.

"Does it bother you?"

"Not particularly," you say, shrugging. "It's kind of familiar. You're older, but your eyes are the same, expressive and open. It feels good to know that some things never change. I always know what I can count on, when it comes to you."

I feel my grin becoming wider.

"Is that a compliment, Uchiha?"

"Maybe."

I elbow you and you frown but don't protest. We look at each other for a few seconds, during which my smile fades effectively as I ponder on all the things I want to tell you and ask you about. I don't know where to start. I wonder if you have questions, too, but you never make it easy for me. The ball is in my court, now, and I feel like you're just standing on the other end of it, watching me play with it and having no intention of joining for the time being.

But I can't keep thinking about all of this, I can't stay here, with you, being agonized by all the things I should've said and done when all I want is for this weight to be lifted from our shoulders and for this wall between us to be torn down.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out, before I can even stop myself. Seventeen years ago, it wouldn't have been honest because I genuinely thought that you owed me as much as I owed you, but now I know that it's not true at all. "I really am, Sasuke."

You lift your head up, frowning yet again even though you look like you might've been expecting my words and ask "What, exactly, are you sorry about?"

"Everything," I say, twisting my body so I'm facing you. I need you to know that I'm serious and that I feel differently than I did back then, when all I could feel was the love, and the constant sadness, frustration and bitterness that came along with it. "It was my fault to begin with. I was the one who started it all, and I was the one who ended it for good. I was always so scared of losing you that I almost made you lose your family and your friends, and…that's inexcusable, I know that. I don't want you to hate me, I never did, but now I see that you had so much more to lose than I did, and I was always so selfish; I couldn't see that you were hurting more than I was, and…"

"You were always a bit of a hypocrite like that," you interrupt, heaving a sigh. It's like the topic is boring you already. "I always tried to tell you, but I should've known that, with that thick head of yours, you'd need seventeen years to figure things out for yourself."

I press my lips together, preventing myself from flinching at the accusation, especially because I know you're right.

"I'm being serious," I press on, my voice lowering but not losing its firmness. "I know I was a prick. You weren't easy, either, but I should've done things differently. And then, ten years ago…I wasn't ready for you yet, even though I thought I was…all I did was hurt you with my selfishness, and I felt like shit for imposing myself on you…"

"Naruto…"

"I did it because I knew you would be easy," I confess, desperately needing you to understand what I'm trying to say, and your face changes to one of resentment, if at me or at the memory of yourself, I don't know, but I won't let it slow me down. "Just like you know about me now, I knew about you back then, I saw it in your eyes that all I had to was to lure you in and you'd give me exactly what I wanted. Maybe we both wanted it, and maybe we both wanted to be strong and prove ourselves wrong, but it wasn't the right time, it didn't…it didn't do us any good. I felt like shit and couldn't even think about facing you again. I can't take it back, Sasuke. I can't take any of it back, but I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you, and that, if I did, it was because I loved you and needed you…in some way…."

I don't know the exact moment my voice started to shake, but my words die slowly in my throat as the sentence finishes.

You're still looking at me with that reproachful frown that makes me feel as though I'm being silently scolded. What was I expecting by apologizing, you melting and throwing yourself at me with tears in your eyes? Nope.

"You know," you begin, your voice dropping a few clearly non-intentional degrees and becoming cold. "That was always the big issue, wasn't it? It was always about this whole 'I-love-you-so-much-I-hate-you-and-I-do-this and-that-to-hurt-you-because-I-need-you-too-much' bullshit. It wasn't just you; I know I was like that, as well. Still, knowing it doesn't make it any easier to forgive."

My heart drops, but I nod.

"But I forgave you," I whisper. "I think that moment was the one when I accepted within myself that I also needed forgiveness. Still…" I add "…even if I want you to forgive me, I can't possibly make you. I have already come to terms that I will accept whatever it is that you choose do to where it concerns me. I know that, once again, I'm imposing myself on you just by being here. I'm always doing it…"

You look genuinely annoyed now.

"Do you think you'd be here if I didn't want you here?" you hiss coldly, and this time, I do cringe. "You think Itachi didn't talk to me first before inviting you?"

"I don't know…"

"Then know this," you snap. "Seeing you still hurts. I do think about all the shit we both did wrong, the horrible things you said, the times we hurt each other…but I also think about the friendship we had and how close we used to be, and how…fucking happy we were in spite of everything. Right now, I understand what we did wrong, and because of that, I'm able to actually feel happy that you're here."

I swallow hard. My lungs inevitably stop functioning in my need to listen to every single word coming out of your mouth. My chest hurts because of it, but when your features soften to one of impatient exasperation, hope fills me and I feel small while clinging to your acceptance so strongly.

"Naruto," you reply, shaking your head from side to side, looking tired all of a sudden. "It doesn't matter anymore. What is done is done, and there's no way we can go back and re-do it. I wish we had done things differently, yes, but it's pointless to agonize about it. I don't care anymore. What the fuck is forgiveness good for if there's nothing to back it up? It's pointless if we don't find a way, in this blank future ahead, to make it up to each other."

I almost feel like crying, or whimpering like a lost child who's just found the comfort of a relative's warmth on a scary night. What you're offering lets me know what you want, what you are willing to offer and to have from me. Our wishes are blurry, neither of us really knowing what to expect, but just the fact that we do possess this will towards each other is enough.

"You're right," I mutter, my body moving on its own to move closer to you until our arms are touching, and you observe my approach without a word. I touch your arm carefully, a simple gesture lacking any particular intention. "Thank you. I...if you want me back in your life as much as I want you in mine I'll...I'll find a way to make it worth it."

Your eyes roll down to my hand and stare at it like it's foreign, as if you're not exactly sure what to do with it. Then, you place your own hand over mine.

"We'll both have to figure it out. Together. There's no way we can do it individually," you say, in a solemn way. I don't remember you being this wise before, but you were always surprising like that.

"Yeah, I know."

You watch our hands for a while, absently running your thumb over the back of mine, and I watch you, resisting the urge to just lean closer and kiss your cheek.

"And one more thing," you reply, pinching my skin only enough for it to hurt a little bit, causing me to snatch my hand away. "Don't apologize for the past ever again. To me, that's the same as saying you're sorry for what we had. It pisses me off."

"I didn't mean it like that!" I exclaim, rubbing the ache in my hand and making a displeased face at you, who all but smirk at me. "I never once regretted giving us a chance, Sasuke. I wouldn't hesitate to do it all over again."

And it's true. I would give everything to be able to go back, knowing what I know today, so I could make it work like it should have.

Your eyebrow quirks upwards as if you weren't expecting me to admit something like that at this point.

Heaving a sigh, you stretch your legs out again and grab my hurt hand back. I let you, thankful for the contact, a silly kind of childish happiness filling me – I was always the happiest when you took the initiative to touch me of you own free will. You look at me, and I look back, but I feel your fingers moving, slowly – almost as if you want me to feel every inch of our skin brushing against each other – to intertwine them with mine, and I wet my lips, the contact making tiny jolts of energy run up my arm in a small sample of the adrenaline you always created in me. I can't seem to ignore the fact that we're so close, even if not on a level that is supposed to be flirty in any way. I feel high and it has nothing to do with that joint.

"I never regretted it either," you declare.

I know that. We were everything to each other, back then. No human being should ever neglect feeling so deeply, loving and hating so strongly, needing someone as desperately as one needs to breathe.

Sasuke, how can I make it happen? What can I do to have you again, for good, this time?

I adjust myself and sit normally again, imitating your position. I don't need your permission, so I lean my head on your shoulder, feeling your cheek coming into contact with the top of my head.

This feels nicer than…anything. Sex with the latest lovers I had could never complete me as much as this simple moment does. Your body is so different than what I remember, and yet, it still compliments mine. I don't understand how something like this is possible. How can a single human being have such an impact on another? It is unworldly. I don't understand it at all.

"In many ways, you were the best thing that happened to me," I mutter, nuzzling my own cheek against your shoulder, enjoying the clean smell of you. "Well, apart from Alice. I never wanted to lose you, and yet, I did."

"It was the choice you made," you point out, mercilessly, as it's so typical of you.

"It had to be done."

"Yes," you agree simply.

"It still makes me sad that we didn't...make it work. At a certain point, I did think that we'd be together forever."

I hear you humming thoughtfully. There is a playfulness in the way our fingers move together that, once more, reminds me of our adolescence, in those days where it wasn't all about sex and we could entertain ourselves with the silliest things just to enjoy each other's company. Your hand is perfect in mine, different from what I remember, but still, it fits, like the perfect puzzle piece.

I want to stay like this forever, if possible. I wouldn't ask for anything else, really.

"What do you think is going to happen to us?" you inquire.

"That depends; it can either go one way or another," I reply, and since I feel a bit daring after all this emotional cleansing and innocent intimacy, I don't hesitate to add "I'm single. Do you have someone?"

I feel your muscles tense at that, but I know it's not because of my question, or because being approached like this by me is uncomfortable to you – we both know how we feel about each other. We don't act upon it because our lives are different now, and so are we, and our goals, and being impulsive, as we know, will never get us anywhere.

"Not anymore," is your answer, and I move my head to look at you, but you're looking away, once more hiding your face from me.

Of course. Of course there had to have been someone, I should've known that. Oddly enough, the thought doesn't upset me as much as I thought it would just a few hours ago. Ten years ago, when you told me you had a not-really-lover, you looked at me easily and talked about it easily, too. Now, you're all stiff, so I know that this person (but obviously not the one from back then) is important to you.

It fascinates me to no end. You? Caring about someone else? Someone aside from me and your family? It must have hit you hard, and I want to know all about it, all about this person who just has to be someone amazing, surely.

"What happened?"

"He died."

My chin drops at the heartbreaking emptiness in your voice before I shut my mouth noisily.

"I…I'm really sorry, Sasuke," I whisper, softly. Your hand begins to sweat in mine, your muscles still rigid. Stubbornly, you refuse to show your face to me, so I use my other hand to reach out and cautiously make you turn your head to me, and you let me. You look painfully impassive, but there's a sadness in your eyes that takes me by surprise, and I just have to know. "What happened?"

You swallow hard and bite your lower lip before bringing your own free hand to the inside of the collar of your t-shirt, fishing out a silvery chain that is linked around your neck that I hadn't noticed before, with something round pending from it. I move closer instinctively to see that what's pending is nothing more than a ring. A thick, golden ring. Clearly, a golden wedding ring.

A wedding ring.

_You?_

Seriously?

I find myself wanting to cry again, but I don't give in to the temptation, because… Is this big, or what? What kind of story is this, that makes you look so sad and that was significant enough for you to still carry something like that around?

Helplessly, my chin falls again. Your mouth twitches in a bitter smile.

"I don't talk about it, ever," you say, letting the chain go so it falls over the fabric of your t-shirt, the ring hitting your chest soundlessly. "Good memories are also terribly painful sometimes. But I'll tell you if you really want to know."

I want to know, but I don't know if I'm ready to listen to something like this. But you listened to my story with Jessica when you were definitely not ready for me at all, and I know that, even if it upsets me and makes me jealous, I need to know this important detail of your life because it belongs to you, and I want – need – to know you all over again if I want to be there for you; if I want to be deserving of my place beside you.

"Of course I want to know," I say, squeezing your fingers emphatically. "I want to know everything about you. Itachi never told me anything, you know? He was always saying that, if I wanted to know stuff about you, I should ask you myself."

"He had a point," you point out, squeezing back. "He's so faithful to me; that's why I love him."

"I love him, too," I joke, managing a small, teasing grin. "Best almost-brother-in-law ever. I kind of fancied him a bit before we got together."

"There are some things I wish I didn't know, Naruto, seriously." You make a disgusted face, but smile all the same. "Fine, I'll tell you my story, but just…not today. I'm still processing…well, you. Let me enjoy this for a while, okay? I'll tell you tomorrow. Also, I'll need you to do something for me. Something you can't refuse."

For some reason, I feel relieved that you're not going to talk about you lover yet. We should have the right to have time for ourselves, just the two of us, right?

"Anything you need."

You smile becomes less stiff and your eyes lose that impeding sadness-.

"Well, you can start by putting your head on my shoulder again."

I beam at you.

"Gladly."

I let my head fall to your shoulder again, making sure I move a bit closer to you so that my side is completely glued to yours, and you're deliciously warm and comfortable I can barely stand it. I just want to snuggle with you. I feel like such a child it seems impossible that I'm almost 45.

I feel your lips being pressed to the top of my head again, making me heave a contented sigh.

"Hey, Sasuke, do you remember our first kiss?"

"How could I forget?" You say, mouth against my hair. You inhale gently as if you're trying to sniff me and proceed. "Best kiss ever."

I snort, throwing one leg over yours in a playful way, just so I can have more contact, casual as it is.

"We kissed so many times in all those years, how can you be sure it was the best?"

"It was," the certainty makes me sniffle again. "It was probably the only time since we started doing stuff that I was focused on just kissing. I remember I could feel everything. I was thinking about you and only you and I wanted it so badly that I took in every single detail of it. To me, it was my real first kiss, and I wasn't even thinking about getting in your pants, so…"

It's funny, I was thinking about our first kiss just a few hours ago. It was pretty good, especially because it was, as you said, probably the only time we ever kissed so passionately without any sexual intent.

I snort again. Why do you say these things that just fatten up my ego? You can be so breathtakingly honest in the most inconvenient times.

"You were so head over heels for me," I can't help but to brag, turning my head to the side. Since you feel that it's okay to be affectionate, I might as well take advantage, which I do, pressing my lips to your jaw. They linger over your skin for a while.

"Look who's talking, you were the one who became obsessed with my mouth." My kiss was simple, and yet your voice has dropped a few octaves, and I can swear it's a bit husky now, or maybe it's just you testing me, luring me in.

"You are a pretty good kisser," I praise, against your jaw. "But it takes two to tango, as they say."

"It takes two to do a lot of things."

"There are some things one can do by oneself."

"But it's so much better when you do it with someone else."

I move away from you only enough to be able to look you in the eye, but we're so close our noses practically brush, and I know that, if I wanted to, I could just lean in and kiss you, but I won't do that because, if something like that ever happens again, it has to have some kind of meaning that doesn't involve us wanting to screw each other senseless just because we can. But, damn, I can't stand the way you're looking at me - calm but with the sparkle of fire in those dark orbs and that devilish smirk that is still too sexy, even now.

It's almost baffling that even now, I manage to please your eyes just a little.

"Don't flirt with me, Uchiha, I'm too old for this and lacking in action for far too long to take it lightly."

"You started it. You kissed my jaw like that, what did you expect?"

"It was an innocent kiss," I contradict, even if I'm already letting go of your hand so I can use it to touch your face. It kills me that you're still so fucking good-looking. It kills me that someone else had you like I did. I should wonder if this is healthy at all considering that, but I can't find a reason to care, not right now, when it's all about you and me. "And you kissed my head first."

"It was all innocence. Besides…" I don't really notice you moving closer, I only feel your mouth in the curve of neck, slightly open, pressing once, your lips brushing the path upwards before kissing again. "I don't have to flirt with you to turn you into a blabbering mess," you lick seductively on a spot right below my ear and I shiver so violently I think my body might fall apart. I know you're just being mischievous, I know it, but I missed this so much, and fuck, why do I always, always have to be helpless to you. "See?"

I move my hand to your hair and grab a fistful of your bangs. I'm not shy about being evil, either, so I pull at them viciously, just enough to hurt, but not too much, and you groan. Revenge doesn't take long to come – I fell your teeth, sharp and precise sink just below my ear, and bloody hell, you still know how to inflict that perfect amount of pain so it borders just on the edge of being pleasurable. I don't want to give you victory, but the hiss of pain slides between my teeth all the same.

I hate you for being like this. For still knowing me all too well, for toying with me just as much as I toy with you, to the point where I want to scream for you to just do whatever you want with me. I'm a grown man, though, and we're going to do this right, so I can't. If I fail to pass this test, you'll never trust me again.

You're so evil it's unfair, and I'm so weak for you it's disgusting. Nevertheless, I still pull your face closer to my neck, silently requesting your kisses without stopping myself from pressing my mouth to your temple, to your cheek, delighted by the proximity, thrilled by the familiar rush of it all.

I want you so much it sickens me. I hate it, yet I love it because I know it's exclusive to us, this fire, and that you wouldn't give to anyone else, just like I didn't, even though we have given our bodies and our hearts to someone else.

It burns. It anguishes me. When I lick my lips I can taste the remnants of your skin.

"You're such a fucking bastard…" I pant, somehow managing to find a way to hold you close, both arms around you as I breathe, breathe and breathe everything that is you.

"You love me, bastardly traits and all that," you gasp back, you voice now as raspy as mine, and please, please, someone just take us away to another world, a different one, where I can just drown in everything about you…

And now I don't know if this feeling is happiness or despair. I hope I can figure it out in the next few days, Sasuke, so I know what to do the next time we're in each other's arms like this, so I don't feel lost anymore.

"Just my luck…"

TBC...

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